“Ooo … is she bummed?”
Mia sat down and thought for a moment. “Seemed so. She didn’t have much to say, really. Just told me they were playing at about the level they usually do, but they couldn’t keep up. Then she said she loved me and that I’d made a good decision not to come. But she didn’t say why.”
“Maybe the hotels aren’t very good,” Ryan suggested.
“Or maybe they don’t have much free time,” Jamie added.
“Kinda hard to tell when she writes about ten lines.” She put her feet on the chair and rested her head on her knees. “She must be depressed and grouchy.”
“Or tired,” Ryan said. “It’s draining to play at that level, and even though they’ve been practicing hard, playing real matches is very different. Much more intense.”
Mia nodded. “She does get quiet when she’s tired.”
“She’s quiet when she’s wide awake,” Ryan teased. “Don’t read too much into this.” She stood and yawned. “Time for bed.” Holding a hand out to Jamie, Ryan helped her to her feet. “Want anything rubbed, Mia?”
She smiled and narrowed her eyes, thinking. “Mini-backrub?”
“You got it. I’ll even make it a maxi if the mini doesn’t knock you out.”
On Sunday afternoon, Mia walked up behind a beautifully attired blonde woman and whispered, “Rumor has it that the Evans kid faked the broken arm because she flunked a drug test.”
Catherine whirled around and stared at Mia. “My God, I was about to slap you! Nobody talks about my baby like that.” She gave Mia an enthusiastic hug. “It’s so good to see you!”
Slightly stunned at the enthusiasm of the greeting, Mia gathered herself and managed to say, “Thanks, Catherine. It’s good to see you, too. How’s Jamie doing?”
“Good. It’s silly for me to come out to watch her team when she’s not playing, but I’ve followed them all year. I hate to stop now.”
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she rides around in a cart and takes drinks to the players. She seems to enjoy it.”
As they started to walk to the next hole, Catherine said, “Jamie told me a little bit about Jordan’s big tournament. Tell me all about it.”
“Oh. Well, they play the Russian national team tomorrow. The Russians are probably the best team in the world right now—well, either them or the Cubans. I’m afraid the U.S. is gonna get slaughtered, but I guess that’s how they get better.”
“Is Jordan happy? Does she enjoy being on the team?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mia was smiling so brightly that Catherine unconsciously mimicked her. “She loves it, Catherine. The only bad thing is that she’s worried she won’t make the final cut. They have to get rid of seven or eight players before the Olympics, and she’s afraid she might be one of ’em.”
“Oh, dear, that would be awful! Especially after all she’s given up!” She reached out and grasped Mia’s arm. “Not to mention what you’ve sacrificed.”
“Yeah. It would suck royally. I don’t really wanna think about it, ’cause I know she won’t be able to walk away. If she gets cut, she’ll wanna play in Europe—to stay in shape and get better. And that’s not what I wanna do.”
Catherine looked at Mia for a moment. “But you would, wouldn’t you?”
“Yep. I’m hooked, Catherine. I’d do just about anything to make her happy.”
“Being in love can be hard, can’t it?”
“Sure can be. But it’s worth it. At least Jordan is.” Catherine put her arm around Mia’s waist, once again surprising the younger woman. She’d known Catherine for eight years, but they’d never been physically affectionate in the least.
“You look happy and healthy and very content. I think Jordan’s lucky to have you.”
“That’s what I keep telling her.” Mia laughed. “So far—she’s bought it!”
Part Eight
Jamie’s team didn’t improve their standing from the previous day, but her mood certainly wasn’t affected by her team’s play. Mia and Catherine hadn’t seen her once during the round, but when she spotted them she jogged over to Mia and gave her a very robust, one-armed hug. “I’m so excited you came!” Jamie said, squeezing Mia until she was breathless.
“Then don’t kill me!”
Jamie released her and gave Catherine a much more controlled hug. “Isn’t it great to have Mia home, Mom?’
“I haven’t had a better time at a tournament all year.” Catherine smiled and patted Mia’s shoulder. “It was so nice to walk around together. My sides hurt from laughing.” She took a quick look at her watch. “Can I interest you two in dinner?”
Jamie looked at Mia, who shrugged her shoulders. “Well … I’d love to, but I need to call and see what Ryan’s doing. Oh! I have to see if she won, too. They’ve lost the last two days.”
“What are your plans, Mia?” Catherine asked.
“I told some friends I might go out with them later, but probably not ’til 10:00 or 11:00. So I’m up for anything.”
With a glance at Mia, Jamie asked, “How’d you get here?”
Smiling cherubically, Mia said, “Your car. Ryan gave me permission.”
“You don’t need permission. What’s mine is yours.”
Mia gave her a faux scowl. “You mean that too literally sometimes.” She looked at Catherine. “She’s always trying to give me money.”
“She should,” Catherine said. “I don’t want to say anything negative about your parents, but I don’t think it’s right to cut your child off financially just because you don’t approve of her choices. If you need anything, Mia, absolutely anything, I hope you’ll let Jamie or me help.”
Squirming visibly, Mia said, “I have a hard time taking money. I know I shouldn’t be so weird about it, but it makes me uncomfortable. Jamie sent me the ticket to come here and I’m determined to pay her back.”
“Don’t even think about it! If I could’ve traveled this month, I would’ve been to see you three times already. You’re just saving me time.” She slung an arm around Mia’s shoulders. “It’s fantastic to have you home for a few days. And every time Jordan has a trip that you don’t want to go on, I’m sending you another ticket. So … get used to it.”
“We’ll see about that. I might figure out a way to say ‘no.’ It’s not what I’m best at, but I’m working on it.”
“Back to dinner,” Jamie said. “I forgot we’ve got to go to the O’Flaherty’s for dinner. Why don’t you both come?”
“I think I’d better go back to Berkeley,” Mia said. “On second thought, I’ll stop and have dinner with my parents and then head back.”
“You’re a good daughter,” Catherine said, giving Mia another quick hug. “And Jamie, you’d better call Martin and tell him you’re bringing a guest.”
“I will. Even though he always makes too much, you never know when Ryan’s gonna be hungry enough to eat for three.”
Frowning slightly, Catherine assessed Mia’s thinness. “Maybe some of your mother’s cooking will put a few pounds on you, Mia. You must be eating the same things Jordan is.”
“Pretty much. I don’t have the heart to eat normal food when she’s got to eat like a rabbit.”
Jamie kissed her cheek. “We’d better get going. Call us if you’re not coming home.”
Mia blinked in surprise. “Where would I go?”
“Oh!” Jamie blushed. “I forgot you’re living a clean life now. Sorry, bud.”
“S’okay. It’s hard to break old habits. You had three years of trying to keep track of me. Just convince yourself I’m on parole; it’ll be easier.”
When they reached the Mercedes, Catherine clicked a button on her key ring and the doors unlocked. Jamie started to open the passenger door, but paused for a moment before getting in. When they were both seated, she said, “When Ryan’s with us, you always ask her if she wants to drive. You never do that with me.”
Catherine smiled at her and turned the key. “Really? I wonder why?”<
br />
“You don’t know?”
“No. It hadn’t occurred to me that I did that with Ryan. It must be because she loves to drive.”
“I love to drive, too,” Jamie said, staring at the side of her mother’s face.
“You do?” Catherine spared a second to look at her. “Ryan always drives your car when you’re together, doesn’t she?”
Irritated by her logic, Jamie said, “Not always. We just got in the habit when she didn’t have a car. I let her drive so she didn’t drool.”
Catherine turned again, but didn’t see the expected smile on her daughter’s face. Assuming she was out of sorts because of her injury, she let the subject drop.
Jamie fussed with the radio for a few minutes, finally finding a station she liked. It was a Spanish station, but Catherine didn’t mind, finding the music lighthearted and rhythmic. “I think I hear an accordion,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s common. This is a Norteña song.”
“Norteña?”
“Yeah. The people who live along the northern border of Mexico. This one’s about running drugs across the border.”
“Pardon?”
Jamie laughed a little. “It’s kinda like gangsta rap, but only because of the topics they cover. It is kinda weird, because it sounds like a big German band—but this song is about a guy who gets busted bringing over drugs and he has to go to prison in America.”
“Do you listen to this kind of music … often?”
“Only when I want to listen to Spanish. Helps me stay sharp. This station plays mostly Norteña and Banda.”
“I’m not sure what those are, but it’s always nice to learn a little something new about you. I had no idea you listened to music to keep your Spanish in shape.”
Jamie was quiet for a few moments, then she said, “It is nice to learn things about each other, isn’t it? That’s one of the things I missed during the time we weren’t very close. I never … felt that I really knew you.”
Catherine nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. “I hope that’s changed.”
“It has … mostly.”
“Mostly?” A blonde eyebrow rose. “Only mostly?”
“You haven’t given me the whole story on Giacomo.” Jamie let out a breath, relieved to finally have the topic out in the open.
“Whole story?” Catherine gave her a quick look. “What story is that?”
Irritated by her mother’s feigned innocence, Jamie said, “You told me you were going to break up with him. That was quite a while ago, Mother. And I’ve been trying to figure out why he showed up at your house if he wasn’t welcome.”
The “mother” reference caught Catherine by surprise. It had been almost a year since Jamie had used it rather than the much warmer “mom.” She thought for a minute, trying to decide what she was willing to share. “He surprised me that night, Jamie. I thought I told you that. I never would have invited him to come to my house while I was having a party. It’s … uncomfortable.”
“But you would … you do … invite him when you’re not having a party?”
“I don’t like your tone,” Catherine said, surprising herself. “You sound as if I’m accountable to you.”
Eyes wide, Jamie blinked in shock. Her mother had never come close to chiding her for anything, and she didn’t like the experience one bit. “You’re not accountable to me,” she said, stressing the word to make it sound more offensive than it was. “But you told me you were going to break it off—because you deserved to be treated better. I didn’t tell you I thought you should break up with him … although I would have if you’d asked.”
Catherine’s voice was soft, but her words were not. “I didn’t ask. And I don’t like feeling like you’re scolding me. It’s quite disrespectful.”
“Damn it, Mother!” Catherine almost swerved off the road at this outburst. “Did you break up with him or not?”
For safety’s sake, Catherine pulled off at the next exit. She drove into a gas station and found a spot to park, out of the flow of customers. Turning off the engine, she shifted in her seat to be able to face her daughter. Jamie’s face was bright pink and she looked like she was going to throw a tantrum. “Why are you so upset?”
“I’m upset,” Jamie said, spitting out the word, “because you told me you felt bad about yourself for dating a married man. You said you deserved better. You said you knew what it was like to have your husband cheat. I didn’t put those words into your mouth. And if you do feel that way, I’m angry at you for compromising your morals just to have sex!”
The car was deathly quiet for a few moments. Catherine’s expressions reflected the gamut of emotions that pulsed through her. But her years of tamping down and ignoring her feelings prepared her to respond calmly. “My sex life and my moral code are no one’s business but mine, Jamie. I must have given you the impression that we’re peers, but we’re not. I can’t demand that you respect me and my choices, but I will not have you dictating to me. If you don’t mind, I consider this subject closed.”
Without waiting for an answer, she started the car and began to back out of the parking space. A mumbled, “You’re the one who wanted to be friends,” caught her by surprise. She kept going, easing the car back onto the on-ramp for the freeway. She thought about Jamie’s comment for a second, recalling the conversation they’d had in Rhode Island. “Yes, I did,” she said. “But you said you didn’t need more friends. You said you needed a mother. You can’t have it both ways. Good parents don’t burden their children with their private issues. And this issue is most definitely private.” She spared a look at her daughter, finding Jamie slumped down in her seat—jaw set, eyes facing forward, burning with anger. The thought briefly passed through her mind to apologize for causing that anger, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Jamie was going to have to come to terms with this—on her own.
When they reached the “children’s house,” as Martin called it, Jamie hopped out while Catherine was putting the car into park. She marched ahead, her erect, rigid posture showing her anger. Catherine took her time, freshening up her lipstick and making sure her hair was perfect. Jamie was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, and she marched up without saying a word when Catherine arrived.
Surprisingly, once they entered, Jamie reverted to her usual cheerful self. Catherine knew her well enough to see that she was forcing it, but she was fairly sure that only she and Ryan knew anything was wrong. It made her smile to see the concerned look on Ryan’s face after they’d been in the house a matter of moments, and she went into the kitchen to chat with Martin and Maeve as Ryan led Jamie downstairs under the pretext of changing out of her golf clothes—which were as pressed and fresh as they’d been that morning.
Before they’d reached the room, Ryan asked, “What’s wrong?”
Jamie shook her head, waiting until she closed the door to speak. She walked to the bed and flung herself on it face-first. “My mother’s being a jerk.”
Stunned, Ryan stood still. “She is?”
Jamie rolled over, gazing at Ryan with slitted eyes. “Yeah, she is. I asked her about Giacomo and she not only wouldn’t tell me one thing, she told me it was none of my business and that she was the mother and I was the child. Period.”
“Well … uhm …” Ryan approached and sat on the foot of the bed. “You are. Did you flat-out ask her what was going on, or were you more subtle?”
Blowing out a breath through pursed lips, Jamie said, “I was pretty direct.” She caught Ryan’s look. “I’m pissed! She’s doing the same thing that my father did! How can she do that to another woman?”
“I … thought that his wife didn’t mind …”
“Oh, please!” Jamie sat up and looked at her partner like she was slow. “Every cheating man says that. I’m sure my father told the women he was with that my mother didn’t mind. And even if his wife doesn’t mind, it’s still wrong. There’s no excuse, none whatsoever, for sleeping with a married man.”
Ryan
was silent for a few moments, then softly said, “I’ve slept with married women. Are you angry with me?”
Jamie’s voice was sharp and stinging. “I would be if you didn’t feel guilty!”
Scratching her head, Ryan half-closed one eye and looked at Jamie quizzically. “I don’t feel particularly guilty about it. And, if we weren’t together, I can’t say I’d never do it again. It depends on the circumstances.”
Jamie jumped to her feet. “Fine! So I’m the only one around here who values the vows … yes, the vows … of marriage!”
Ryan didn’t rise to the bait. If anything, her tone was calmer and she spoke more slowly than she had been. “That’s hardly fair. I never cheated on anyone. I just had sex with a few women who chose not to honor their vows.”
Hand on hip, Jamie gave her a withering glare. “There’s no difference, and you know it. That’s like driving the car while someone else robs a bank. Those women wouldn’t have been cheating without you, Ryan.”
“So … you’ve been holding in your contempt of me?” She was smiling, but it was sardonic.
“No, damn it, no! I don’t feel contempt for you, but I hope you see that what you did was wrong!”
Ryan got up and walked over to her, attempting to put her hands on Jamie’s shoulders before they were shaken off. “Damn! What’s gotten into you? You act like your mother killed someone and I helped bury the body!”
“Do you … or do you not think that having sex with married women is wrong?”
Knowing she was making things worse by being honest, Ryan shrugged her shoulders. “It depends. I won’t say that it’s always wrong and I won’t say I always felt guilty. I didn’t.”
“How many times did you do it?”
Jamie was yelling, and Ryan hoped that there was enough noise upstairs for the others to not hear her. “A few … several … hell, I don’t know! I didn’t have a lot of info on some of the women I was with. Some of them coulda been married.”
“How … many … do … you … know … were … married?”
Osmosis Page 23
